"Explanation," Hayseed said. "It was a fair trade."
The Elder remained suspicious. "That tree does not make trades."
Hayseed smiled. "Perhaps you should speak to it, then."
The Elder was not amused. "Girl! What kind of trade?"
Opaline felt herself blushing. "I did not mean to do wrong, Elder."
"She is innocent," Hayseed said. "As you can see. I told her it was all right."
"And who in Void are you to do that?"
"Just a traveling minstrel. I am familiar with all the trees along this path."
"You haven't been here before!"
"Not in the village. I normally sleep in the trees."
"That tree?"
"Affirmation."
The Elder openly assessed him. "Deaclass="underline" demonstrate that you can touch that tree, and we will give you free lodging here tonight."
"Appreciation."
What was happening? Opaline did not understand why there was such a fuss about a tree. But she discovered she was tired from the unaccustomed hours of walking, and would appreciate sheltered lodging for the night.
They walked back to the tree, with the Elder and several curious villagers who appeared. Then Hayseed took Opaline's hand and walked with her to the tree. They went right up to the trunk, which was covered with spikes. Havoc took hold of them and used them to climb up the fat bole to the first major division of branches. He sat there and dangled his feet down. "It's a friendly tree," he remarked. Then he climbed down, took Opaline's hand again, and returned to the villagers, who looked faintly awed.
"Apology," the Elder said. "You do know the tree."
"Needless. If you wish, we will entertain you this evening before we retire."
"Appreciation," the Elder said gruffly.
They were given a nice cabin already stocked with food. "What happened?" Opaline asked when they were alone.
"That tree is of a notorious species. Its fruit is excellent, but it does not normally yield it gladly. The villagers have taken decades to cultivate the friendship of the tree, and strangers aren't welcome. Fortunately it accepted you."
"Because of my innocence?" Not to mention her urine.
"In part. But as I said, I know that tree, and it knows me. So it cooperated."
"What would have happened to someone it didn't like?"
"Those spikes can jet poison."
She was silent.
After a moment, he spoke again. "They gave us this house free for the night, in tacit apology for challenging you about the fruit and me about the tree. But we will pay for it anyway Are you familiar with minstrel performance?"
"Sometimes they pass through and sing songs," she said.
"Did they enlist any villagers in the presentation?"
"Sometimes."
"You will be my assistant this time."
She was appalled. "I'm no actress! I have no idea what to do."
"Just follow my lead. It will not be difficult. Trust me."
"Candor: I don't really trust you. That business with the tree—I don't understand that at all. The tree couldn't have human intelligence."
"I will win your trust, Opaline. I promise you will have no problem."
"I seem not to have a choice," she said nervously.
"You must change outfits, as will I. Traveling clothes are not suitable for this."
She was resigned. "Tell me what to do."
He told her, and she opened her pack and brought out her fancy green dress and slippers. He faced away as she changed, then came to unbind her hair and arrange it in a loose brown wave. Then she faced away while he changed, becoming a brightly colored minstrel with a blue dragon scale as a musical instrument.
They went outside. The villagers were gathering in the central square, the smallest children sitting in a circle in front, the larger ones behind them, and the adults standing to the rear. She had to go into that stage and somehow perform?
"Trust me," Hayseed repeated. "If I disappoint you, you need never trust me again."
She nodded dumbly.
They took the center of the round stage area. Opaline just stood there awkwardly, having no idea what else to do. But Hayseed immediately took command. "Greeting, children!" he called.
"Greeting, Minstrel!" they chorused back.
"I am Hayseed the Minstrel, and this is my little sister Opaline from Village Sourberry. She will assist me in my song."
All eyes focused on Opaline. She felt like sinking through the earth.
"This is a song of lost love," Hayseed said. "I will sing her words for her." The blue dragon scale appeared in his hands. He strummed it, and it made a melodious note. Without further pause, he sang.
Opaline stood amazed. She had not heard him sing before. He was good, amazingly good. The dragon scale was somehow producing a beautiful accompaniment, but he hardly needed it. His voice was so rich and powerful it made her shiver inside.
She saw the young village girls gazing raptly at the minstrel. He had captured their devotion from the first note.
He had sung two more stanzas during her distraction. Now he glanced at her, and nodded his head slightly, indicating that she should approach. She did so, tentatively.
Now she was with him, being nigh. The imposed role was permeating her, making her become that heartbroken maiden. She couldn't stop it, and didn't really want to.
Still singing, he guided her to lie on the ground. She yielded, bemused. He got down with her, acting out what he sang. If this were not being done in public, she would ironically have been even more ill at ease. Literally lying with a man?
And there they were, his head upon her breast, his arms reaching up over her face to halfway mask what she could see. She couldn't help herself; she caught his head in her own arms and pressed it to her bosom.
Then the villagers were applauding, and she realized the song was over. Embarrassed, she hastily let him go. Had she messed it up?
"Isn't she wonderful?" he inquired rhetorically, and the audience applauded more vigorously, causing her to blush.
Hayseed started another song, guiding her as a prop, and Opaline saw that more villagers had appeared. At first it had been mostly the children, with some parents to keep an eye on them, but now the whole village was attending. She understood why: this was not just a passing minstrel of indifferent quality. This was one of the finest voices on the planet. She felt privileged to be on stage with him, and somehow he made her seem to be a competent participant, whatever style of woman she represented for the time of a given song.
Then, abruptly, Hayseed ended it. "Night is closing, and my sister needs her rest," he said. Actually it was the children who needed it; they were getting sleepy as the songs catered to other ages.
"Minstrel," the young women pleaded. "One more!"
"One more," he agreed generously. "Then we all will soon retire. My sister and I have far to go, and the village has business to accomplish while the weather holds."